


Fingers Tracing Scars, Mapping Out Reminders Of Just How Much I Can Take

by blackXroseXdying



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 15:43:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7624453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackXroseXdying/pseuds/blackXroseXdying
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>3x09 after Mickey and Ian fight and Ian is lying in bed and everyone else is downstairs, Mickey goes to see Ian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fingers Tracing Scars, Mapping Out Reminders Of Just How Much I Can Take

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up a lot shorter than I wanted.  
> I was re watching this season, and I really wanted this to happen so I had to write it.

"Gallagher here?" Mickey asked, eyebrows raised at the tall brunette girl who opened the door.  
"Got a whole bunch of 'em." Fiona said sarcastically.  
"The red head. Ian." Mickey bit his lip.  
"He's not home." She said, starting to close the door. Mickey stuck his foot between the frame, shooting his hand out to stop it from closing.  
"I saw him walk this way."  
He stared blankly at Fiona until she sighed and swung the door open.  
"He's upstairs." She said, pointing in the direction of the staircase.  
Mickey walked past Fiona, ignoring all the people staring at him from the living room. He'd probably regret this if he was sober enough, but all day the image of Ian on the ground bleeding and crying after Mickey had kicked the crap out of him had been stuck in his head, and it filled him with nausea that had nothing to do with the alcohol he'd consumed.  
Only one door along the long hallway was closed, and since all the other rooms were empty, Mickey assumed that was where Ian was. Without bothering to knock, he pushed the door open, closed it behind him and leaned against the wood.  
The only light in the room came from a lamp next to the bed in front of him, and in the dim light, Mickey could just make out Ian's shape on the mattress. It was shaking slightly and Mickey could hear quiet hitches of breath, and he felt a painful squeeze in his chest as he stood there listening to Ian cry.  
"Gallagher?" Mickey said, voice barely above a whisper. When he go no response he tried again, a little louder this time. "Ian?"  
The lump on the bed froze and slowly Ian rolled over, sitting up as he went so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. Mickey swallowed thickly past the lump in his throat at the sight of Ian's face. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, filled with tears, and most of the blood had been cleaned off, but in some ways that was worse, being able to actually see the damage he had caused. A bag of what used to be frozen peas sat on Ian's pillow and Mickey knew Ian had been pressing his face against it.  
"What do you want?" Ian said, not looking at Mickey; his voice was flat and emotionless.  
Mickey stood in silence, looking at the redhead boy in front of him, wondering where and how to say what he needed to. He'd always expressed how he was feeling by fighting.  
"If you're not going to say anything, then go. Just get out." Ian said.  
Mickey looked away from him, preparing himself for what he was about to say, wondering if he's actually be able to get the words out without choking on them.  
"You were right." Mickey mumbled, the words barely audible. Ian must have still heard him though because his head snapped up.  
"What did you say?"  
"I said you were right." Mickey paused for a few moments before taking a deep breath and continuing in the same soft voice. "I can't...I know I..." he grit his teeth and shook his head. "I love you, Ian."  
Ian let out a gasp of surprise; Mickey had actually said it. Those three words he'd always wanted to hear him say. Mickey's eyes flicked to Ian's, and seeing the look on his face - the shock and the tears, but also that spark of happiness in Ian's eyes - and he moved slowly away from the door, kneeling in front of Ian so they were at eye level.  
Mickey brought his hand up to the side of Ian's face, thumb stroking lightly against the soft pale skin, as he looked at the damage he had caused earlier that afternoon.  
"Fuck," he said, tears welling in his eyes, and a lump in his throat. "I'm...fuck, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."   
The words were thick with emotion and before he could say anything else, Ian hauled Mickey up off the floor into his lap and pressed their lips together softly.


End file.
